


The Most Embarrassing Thing

by sakaeamara



Category: Orginal
Genre: Originally Posted on FictionPress.com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 09:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13163961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakaeamara/pseuds/sakaeamara
Summary: What’s the most embarrassing that could happen?





	The Most Embarrassing Thing

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello people i'm back with another essay and this is based on an assignment i got where i had to express the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me but i couldn’t come up with one so i made one up. Forgive me if this does not sound realistic but it is a sort of fantasy.  
> Like all my other stories i ask if you notice any mistakes please notify me and i'll try my best to fix it. Now that all that's said…….
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!!!!

What’s the most embarrassing thing that could happen to someone? To be honest no-one will ever know that, but I will share what I believe is mine…….. 

My day started out when i rolled out of bed and lazily walked to the bathroom. This sudden laziness always happens on a Monday. The reason, I believe: a) I don’t want to go to school in general (you know that instance where you want to be awake but don’t want to do anything) or b) I HATE Mondays with a passion. It may also be that I just had the most wonderful dream ever and I did not want to leave it (not that I remember any of it). My name is Clarice Charity Robinson. Everyone calls me ‘Clar’, simply because I despise my first and middle names respectively. It’s not that I hate the name in general or think my parents had a couple a screws lose while naming me, it just sounds too much like and old lady’s name for my comfort. Maybe I’ll grow to love it eventually, but for now it stays this way.

I’m fourteen years old and I attend Queen Victoria’s Private School located in the west end of England, better known as ‘The Preps’. It’s mainly a school for gifted children, which is very off-putting because I have yet to find a legitimate reason I have been enrolled there ( I’m leaning towards my parents money ‘advantage’). Currently I’m heading down stairs and to the kitchen, “Good morning Clar, had a nice rest?” my mother, Agatha Shanice Robinson, greated as I entered the foyer. “Yes, what will we be having”, I greeted her back and we both made our way to the dining room with light conversation. My mother is as old as she would ever tell us and works as a receptionist/substitute nurse/owner of a very popular veterinary office in the area we live. “Blueberry pancakes, with a side of fresh mango and strawberry salad and a tall glass of orange juice to wash it down”, John, our butler announced, “Good morning Mrs Robinson's” he finished.

We made our way to the table where my father was already seated “Good morning Clar, Aggie”. Alyson Morris Robinson said his salutations as we took our seats. He is a famous architect, and is temporarily the main technician behind the construction of England’s modernised homes and the only person my mother would ever allow to use that particular abbreviation (she unlike I likes her full name). If so close as make the mistake of calling her that you will be in serious trouble. Breakfast was silent was silent, but not uncomfortable and ended quickly which let me make my way to the car that would get me to my destination.

In school I meet up with my friends, Jen and Vicky, where we talked until the bell rung for home room. After two periods of chemistry and one of english the signal for break was given. Walking down the hallway was uneventful so I figured it would have been so the entire trip. Boy was  
I wrong, because as soon as turned the last corner before I came to the cafeteria, I into contact with very engaging specticle. There standing at the entrance of the cafeteria stood, the captain of the boys’ rugby team, Jessie Vanderdeux. He’s two years older than me, has the darkest blue eyes they would almost be navy, coiled brown hair that is actually really soft (don’t ask how I know that) and the most mesmerising of voices. The fixation of every girls wedding fantasy, and my crush for the past four years after we bumped into each other the first week I began here. We haven’t spoken directly since, I use to skip periods to just watch him practice on the field. 

The reason for my crush is not for his looks; although he’s no quasimodo(no offense to the Hunchback of Notre-Dame lovers). No, it was the little talk we had before we parted ways, unfortunately I haven’t enough confidence to start up a conversation with him on my own. So here I am hiding behind the corner peeking out every now and then, when he finally makes his way in. After awhile I found myself by the counter where the food is served, ordering my snack I find a seat near my friends that I could see Jessie perfectly fine from. Wrong decision #2, because unbeckonist to me a jealous member of his fan club, noticed my subtle stares and as an act of revenge threw her bowl of egg salad. Gush! Was the sound that diffuse throughout the room, the entire cafe was silent, and then erupted into laughter. I was covered in the vile concoction, my friends sat there in shock but I knew they wanted to laugh along. Even Jessie looked like he wanted to let out a few guffaws. And for the rest of the day and a good three months after I was deemed “Egg Head”. And that my friends is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me

**Author's Note:**

> A/N; And I’m finished leave a comment and tell me what you think. Also there is a poll on my profile concerning another of my works. I would appreciate if took a look at it.  
> Thank you for reading this installment and I’ll see you next time 
> 
> bbbbyyyyyeee~


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